Loving The Darkness
by SamLovesRory
Summary: New student Rory Flanagan is hiding a dark and deadly secret. Sam Evans is lonely and finds in him a new friend...or maybe new love. But when a terrible evil from Rory's past descends on the quiet town, both boys will have sacrifices to make if they want to protect the people they love. Though in the town of Lima, NOBODY is ever as they seem...
1. New Student and New Hope

**Author's Note:** **This is a little teaser of what's to come. In the next little while, updates will probably be more frequent...eventually settling into a once-a-week pattern. **Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)

...

_Anita Rivers was happily enjoying a game of Solitaire on her computer. She always enjoyed being the first one in school. For at least thirty minutes of her day, there wasn't a student in sight. No noise, no commotion._

_She could sit back and relax, sipping from her mug of instant coffee, without anybody disturbing her. As head receptionist, she thought it was appropriate to say that she was truly the one who kept the school up and running._

_Frowning at the computer screen, she found herself in a tough spot. No cards matched up! She exited the game, resolving to challenge herself to a rematch later on in the day._

_Stifling a yawn, she stood up to go refill her coffee mug—dropped the mug and let out a scream._

_A dark figure stood in the doorway, bathed in the dark hallway's shadow. As the silhouette stepped forward, Anita breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a boy. From what she could see under the hood of his black sweater, he looked no older than a Sophomore._

"_Sorry," the boy said, surprisingly with an Irish accent. "Did I frighten you?"_

"_You sure did," Anita said, bending down to retrieve her mug (thankfully only slightly chipped). As she stood up, she let out another gasp as the boy had rematerialized a foot away from her desk. "I'm usually the only person in school at this time."_

"_I'm the new student," the boy explained. "I thought it'd be best to arrive early."_

"_You're the one that Mr. Pierce called in about, right? You're staying with his family."_

"_I am."_

_Anita nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back with your schedule."_

_The boy tapped his fingers against the desk while he waited. He took furtive glances over his shoulders, around the room, investigating the shadows…a force of habit._

"_Here we are," Mrs. Rivers announced, handing over a stack of papers._

"_Thank you."_

"_Welcome to McKinley," she said, and looked down at a sticky note attached to her desk, "Rory Flanagan."_

…

Sam Evans huffed out a breath, his face red with exertion. His muscles ached and quivered as he struggled with a final bench press. How many had he done? Fifty…a hundred?

Setting the weight down with a clank, Sam sat up with a wince. His T-shirt was soaked through with sweat and strands of blond hair were plastered to his forehead.

He stretched his arms behind his back and crossed his bedroom to the door, opening it and stepping into the hall—and nearly being toppled over by his speeding-bullet of a brother.

"Whoa, Stevie," Sam chuckled, "where's the fire?"

"Sorry Sammy," the younger boy replied. His eyes were bright with excitement. "Me and Stacy are playing hide-and-seek. She's It!"

"Then don't let me keep you waiting." With a quick ruffle of his brother's hair, Sam sent the frenzied boy on his way.

Padding down the hall to the bathroom, Sam spotted his parents in the master bedroom. His father had an arm draped over his mother's shoulder, and they stood by the window looking down onto the street. Sam knew they were happy…heck, _he_ was happy. It was nice to be back in Lima, with the comfort of financial stability.

Sam shut the bathroom door behind him and peeled the sweaty shirt from his flushed skin, pausing for a moment to observe himself in the mirror.

His eyes trailed down to his stomach and he frowned. Turning to the side and running his hand over the taut skin, Sam grimaced. In his mind, his belly was cushiony…soft.

He pinched at his skin, pulling at the slightest of looseness. _No more lunchroom burritos for this guy_, Sam thought. _Those things are just microwaveable tubes of lard._

Resolving to workout extra hard after school, Sam shed the rest of his clothes and ducked into the shower. The water seeped into his sore shoulders and washed away the stress. Only a week into the school year and his plate was already full to capacity. Not to mention tryouts for the football team were coming up.

Thankfully, he always had Glee Club to look forward to…though it wasn't the same as it had been the previous year. It felt awkward. Finn was not into hanging out; he was a lost puppy being dragged along by The Rachel Berry Show. The couples were sickeningly in love, never more than an atom's-breadth apart: Mike and Tina, Kurt and Blaine, Santana and Brittany. And ever since his nasty split with Mercedes over the summer, she had made every effort to ignore him. Add to that Quinn and Santana, his other exes! He felt alone…friendless.

He thought bitterly, _Maybe I should swear off girls all together_!

Shutting off the water and drying himself off, Sam only hoped that somehow this year would turn around for him. Maybe he would meet someone.

If only he knew what was in store.


	2. A Crossing of Paths

**Author's Note:** **Here's Chapter 2! Where the lives of Sam and Rory first intertwine. **Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)

...

Sam pulled his 10-year-old, beet-red sedan into the parking lot beside William McKinley High School. The car squealed a bit when he eased it into a spot, and the handbrake made a disconcerting grinding noise as he pulled it up. Still, he was grateful to have a car; the hardship his family had gone through in the past year had taught him to be grateful for what he had.

"Hey Evans," someone called from across the lot, "wait up!"

The blond turned around and Noah Puckerman jogging over. He smiled, "Hi Puck. How's it going?"

"You mean besides the fact that, technically, I'm already failing two of my classes even though it's only been a week? Nothing much."

Sam chuckled. "You should really take school more seriously."

"Listen," Puck replied, "how about you leave the future-planning and worrying to the Senior? All you have to think about is Glee and football. Enjoy your Junior year, huh?"

"I guess," Sam admitted.

Puck smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back, buddy."

As Puck sprinted off, having spotted Finn miraculously Rachel-free, Sam headed towards the side door to the building. He was glad that Puck had actually held a conversation with him, despite its brevity. Maybe the second week of the school year would be better.

He hiked up his school bag before slipping through the door.

…

Rory was confident enough with the layout of the school, having walked its halls for almost twenty minutes. He always made it a point of scoping out his surroundings. It eased his mind to be familiar with the closest exits and places that provided a decent sense of privacy. That being said, he had noted every emergency door in the building and the location of the three boy's bathrooms.

Though, for all his careful planning, it was a whole different place once students started populating the halls.

It was overwhelming; Rory hadn't been in the company of so many people for a very long time. And they were all shouting, running, pushing, laughing. Music played from a dozen different iPods and cell phones.

Still, Rory maintained a detached expression, hidden beneath the hood of his sweater. He slipped easily through the crowd, blending in, textbooks he had found in his locker in hand.

A bell rang sharply and close by. So blaringly loud, it stirred the students into a frenzy. They hugged their friends, slammed locker doors and hurried to their different classes.

With all the bustle around him, he couldn't tell where in the school he was. Cursing under his breath, he continued pushing through the crowd.

The halls were starting to thin. Rory walked quickly, whipping his head around, searching for the biology room.

He rounded a corner—and collided with another student. A boy with blond hair.

…

The boy had come out of nowhere. One minute, Sam was coolly heading towards biology, the next—wham!

It was strange. The other boy was a good deal shorter than Sam, but incredibly solid. An impact like that should have knocked the boy right over, but rather it was Sam who was holding his bumped shoulder.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Sam exclaimed. The boy's books had fallen all over the floor.

Ripping off the hood of his sweater, the brunet snarled, "Why don't you watch where you're going?"

"Like I said," Sam said calmly, bending down to pick up the book, "I'm sorry. It was an accident."

"Fine," the boy said, frowning. He snatched back his books.

"You're new, huh? I haven't seen you around McKinley before."

"Yes."

"I'm Sam Evans," the blond said cheerfully, extending a hand.

The new boy regarded Sam's hand carefully, before rolling his eyes and making a sour face. "Flanagan. Rory Flanagan."

Rory shook Sam's hand with surprising strength, before pulling back and standing awkwardly.

"You have an accent," Sam noted with a small smile.

"Irish."

"It's cool."

They stood facing one another for a moment, both unsure of what to say. Sam examined the boy standing before him.

For the most part Rory's face seemed boyish, from the button nose, to the bright blue eyes and the full lips. Though, the look was offset by several decidedly _older_ features: the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slight hollowness to his cheeks, the cold expression in his eyes. The boy's skin was unmarred and displayed a shocking pallor. His hair was reddish-brown and so dark it was nearly black.

"I have to get to class," Rory muttered.

"What do you have?"

"Biology."

Sam grinned. "Me too; I'll show you the way." He put a friendly hand on Rory's arm to guide him, but the brunet jerked back with a vicious glare in his eyes.

"I can _walk_, you know."

"Okay." Sam answered. He started off in the direction of the classroom, and heard Rory following several feet behind him.

Sam smiled despite himself. The new kid was quirky, sure; but then again, being the new kid sucked. Obviously he had every right to be in a bit of a cranky mood. Still, he really shouldn't have been worried about how he would be received; with that adorable accent and his cute face, it was impossible for people not to—_Whoa_, Sam thought_, what was that? 'Adorable'? 'Cute'? Why would I think that?_

Shaking his head, Sam stopped in front of the biology room. He turned and flashed Rory a charming grin. "Ready?"

"Yes," the brunet replied tensely and he brushed past Sam to get to the door.


	3. Friends?

**Author's Note:** **School's starting, so I'm aiming to fall into a once-a-week pattern (probably going to publish every Sunday). I'd also like to say a huge thank you to LeoChris, who has agreed to be my Beta reader (and has done a fantastic job so far!) So, please welcome him to the _Loving The Darkness_ team! **Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)

...

Mr. Bennett had already begun his lecture when Rory stepped into the room, Sam following at his heels. The olive-skinned teacher stopped mid-sentence and rounded on the pair.

"Late," he mused. "Not a very good way to start the second week of school."

"Sorry, sir," Sam answered smoothly, "I was helping Rory find his way. He's a new student."

At those words, every pair of eyes in the room gravitated towards the Irish boy. Rory looked down at his scuffed up leather shoes and set his mouth in a hard line. A vicious blush ought to have overtaken his cheeks, but it did not.

"I see," Mr. Bennett said. "Quite understandable, then. Thank you, Sam."

"No problemo," Sam replied with an easy grin. He nudged Rory on the arm—causing the smaller boy to jerk anxiously—and said, "Come on, I'll take you to your seat."

"Perhaps our new student would like to take a moment to introduce himself?" Mr. Bennett suggested before the boys had a chance to move.

Immediately, Rory began shaking his head. There were mean-spirited sniggers from his classmates; growing louder the longer he remained silent. As the sound grated on his nerves, Rory clenched his hands into fists and finally retorted out of anger. "Fine! The name's Rory Flanagan, foreign exchange student from Ireland. I had to leave because my Dad's an abusive son-of-a-bitch and probably the worst man to walk this wide world. So I came to this little speck on the map town to escape. Is that enough for you?"

While his peers blinked rapidly in shock, Rory felt a strong hand on his back as Sam prompted him to head towards a set of two empty desks near the back of the room.

As he slouched down into his seat—Sam settling in beside him—Mr. Bennett readjusted his spectacles on the thick bridge of his nose. The man cleared his throat gravely. "Yes, well, um…why don't we continue with the lesson?"

Rory opened his biology textbook to the specified page, finding a labeled diagram of the human respiratory system.

"Like we discussed last week, lung cancer is a deadly condition that affects one in twelve men over the age of forty and one in seventeen women of the same age…"

As the teacher droned on about the precautions to be taken against the disease, Rory took a grim sense of satisfaction as he bitterly tried to figure out what percentage of his unkind classmates would die at its hands. He marveled at the vulnerability of the human body.

Just then, he noticed Sam sliding a sheet of lined paper across to him. Along the top, the blond boy had scrawled a message in messy, blocky handwriting:

_Did you mean what you said before to the class? About your father?_

Rory pursed his lips and rolled his eyes before hurriedly adding a line in his own elegant slanting script:

_Yes. I lost my brother Shamus because of him._

Sam sucked in a breath of air. He bit his lip as he scribbled a response:

_I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that must have been like. I want you to know that I'm here for you if you need to talk._

Rory frowned when he read that part:

_You don't even know me._

Sam hurriedly wrote out:

_I want to, though. I know what it's like to be the new kid. I know everyone needs a friend._

The word looked so foreign to him. 'Friend'. He had never had one of those before.

_I don't need a friend._

He pushed the paper back over the Sam and tried to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, but it was impossible. Thoughts of his father crept up like a vile poison, choking out everything else. He could hear his Dad's cold voice in Mr. Bennett's words. He was acutely aware of everyone surrounding him, the fiery heat of their bodies, the smell of them, the violent thudding of their heartbeats.

Beside him, the rhythmic pounding as Sam leaned over his notebook, exposing the clear skin of his neck—

Rory scraped back his chair and called out, "Sir, may I please use the washroom?"

"Yes, of course," Mr. Bennett answered as Rory dashed from the room. He sprinted down the hall and burst into the graciously empty men's room.

Rory gripped the edges of the sink in his shaking hands and gulped down deep breaths of air. He fumbled with the tap and let the cold water run, splashing some onto his face, hoping it would help. It didn't, of course…Rory's skin remained cool as ever.

Still, the memories were a painful grinding in his head. So he did the only thing he knew to try keeping them at bay. He sang.

"On the wings of the wind o'er the dark rolling deep,

Angels are coming to watch o'er thy sleep,

Angels are coming to watch over thee,

So list to the wind coming over the sea."

_He was looking out the window of his bedchamber, resting his chin on the cool stone sill. The small village at the base of their hill was painted in the orange sunset, lazily slowing for the night._

_He pitied them. Peasants, farmers, smithies…toiling their pointless, short lives away._

"Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow,

Lean your head over and hear the wind blow,

Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow,

Hang your head over and hear the wind blow."

_Riding his horse nearby the village one day, he felt an enormous hand on his shoulder. As his father pulled up beside him, the imposing man said, "Disgusting, aren't they?"_

_He nodded and replied as he had been taught so many times, "I am better."_

"Oh, winds of the night, may your fury be crossed,

May no one who's dear to our island be lost,

Blow the winds gently, calm be the foam,

Shine the light brightly and guide them back home."

_One evening for dinner, Deirdre—the servant—overcooked the venison. It arrived at the table a light shade of pink._

_And he watched as his father rose up in fury and brought his hand down across the young woman's face._

_And they ate the gamey meat as she lay crumpled on the floor, neck twisted at an obscene angle. Nothing could be done as the family sat beneath the frightening glare of Desmond Flanagan._

"Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow,

Lean your head over and hear the wind blow,

Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow,

Hang your head over and hear the wind blow."

_He was falling asleep to the muted wails from the cellar. People who would never again see the daylight, would never again taste the purity of air, would never again touch their loved ones._

"The currachs are sailing way out on the blue,

Laden with herring of silvery hue,

Silver the herring and silver the sea,

And soon there'll be silver for baby and me."

_Shamus and his father were arguing, nothing new. And he was hidden away in the corner of the room, being soothed by the calm hands of his Mam. _

_And Shamus turned his back to his father, cursing the whole family for their ways._

_And Desmond roared in anger and snapped his son's neck from behind._

"Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow,

Lean your head over and hear the wind blow,

Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow,

Hang your head over and hear the wind blow."

_Though he begged to know where his brother was, his father would only answer, "He is dead."_

_But he knew the truth. Shamus could not be dead from a snap of the neck any more than he himself could be. But he never asked again._

"The currachs tomorrow will stand on the shore,

And daddy goes sailing, sailing no more,

The nets will be drying, the nets heaven blessed,

And safe in my arms dear, contented he'll rest."

_As the years trickled by, he adopted the opinions of his brother. He grew to resent his father and the life he had been given._

_One day he learned the extent of his father's madness, and the dark magic he was studying. _

_And he ran away, vowing never again to look back. Never to become like his father._

"Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow,

Lean your head over and hear the wind blow,

Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow,

Hang your head over and hear the wind blow."

"That was beautiful, Rory," came a voice from behind him.

Rory whipped around and saw Sam standing with his arms crossed by the bathroom door. The blond boy's eyes sparkled with tears.

"What in God's name are you doing here?" Rory thundered, advancing on the other boy.

Sam held up his hands. "I just came to make sure you were okay. You left in a bit of a hurry."

"I told you before," Rory snarled, "I don't need a friend. I don't need anybody."

Sam took a few gentle steps towards the enraged boy and smiled, "Of course you do."

"I think you should go now, Sam."

"Just, do me a favor. Come to Glee club with me later today. You have an amazing voice, Rory."

"Glee club?"

Sam nodded. "It's a place where we all get together to sing."

"No."

"Yes," Sam replied with a cheeky grin.

"No."

Sam chuckled and grabbed for Rory's hand, pulling him from the bathroom. The brunet didn't put up much of a fight. "Yes."

...

**Song: Connermara Cradle Song - traditional Irish lullaby**


	4. Audition and Rift

**Author's Note:** **Wow, Chapter 4 comes two days early! I know a lot of you have been extremely curious about the big secret Rory is hiding, but I promise that Chapter 5 will be _very_ revealing!** Thanks to LeoChris for beta reading! Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)

...

As he rounded the corner, drawing closer to the choir room, Rory detected a pungent aroma. It smelled of…_no_, he thought, _it couldn't be!_

"You okay, Rory?" Sam asked, keeping a close eye on the Irish boy's expression.

Rory snapped: "Fine."

They continued in silence, passing through the door into the choir room. There, the concentration of the scent was eye watering.

The moment Rory set foot in the room, several of the boys jerked in their chairs and stiffened. He felt multiple pairs of eyes glaring at him. He shouldn't have been there. He wasn't welcome, and things were going to get ugly. He could sense the tension in the room.

"Who's this, Sam?" Asked a man with tightly curled hair and a woolen sweater-vest.

Sam smiled widely. "I'll let him introduce himself, Mr. Shue, but he's got a great voice and he'd like to audition."

Rory shot the blond boy a furious look. Sam hadn't said anything about an audition…about singing for all these _people_!

"The floor is yours," the teacher said. Sam rushed to take a seat, leaving Rory standing in the middle of the room. Now _everyone_ was staring at him.

He gulped back his nerves and directed his words at the three students who regarded him with murder in their eyes: a boy sporting a Mohawk, one with slicked back hair and one who was enormously tall and broad of shoulder. "Hi. My name's Rory Flanagan and I come in peace."

There was laughter. To the majority of the room, it was a joke. To those with trained ears, it meant so much more. Rory was relieved to see that the boys had relaxed somewhat. Still, he had to choose his words carefully. "As you can probably tell by my accent, I'm from Ireland. I wasn't getting on very well with my parents, so I decided to come away to America and try out a _quiet_, _normal_ life."

"I hope you're liking Lima so far," the teacher said.

"I am," Rory replied.

"Who are you staying with, Rory?"

"I'm staying at the home of Brittany S. Pierce."

A girl with a dark ponytail and a red-and-white cheerleader's uniform shot Brittany a look. "Why didn't you tell me a _boy _was staying at your house?"

The blonde girl stared at Rory with a vacant expression. "I totally forgot who you are."

"Whatever," said the other cheerleader with an indifferent eye roll. "Let's see what you've got, Potato Head."

Rory noticed Sam sitting in the middle room flashing him a thumbs-up. He cleared his throat and said, "Um, I'll be singing 'Take Care of Yourself' by Teddy Thompson."

Seconds later, the class' piano player took up the first few notes. Rory closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else, not standing in front of a crowded room of teenagers. Maybe he was standing in the lush, green countryside of Ireland. A place by the shore, without a care in the world…

"It's time for us to part

Yeah, it's best for us to part

Oh, but I love you,

I love you."

He felt the lyrics coursing through him, flowing confidently. He allowed himself to open his eyes.

"Take care of yourself

I'll miss you

The nights are long alone

I sit alone and moan

Oh, 'cause I love you

I love you.

Take care of yourself

I'll miss you."

He swayed to the musical interlude, locking his gaze with Sam's emerald green eyes. They felt like an anchor, keeping him calm. He couldn't pull his eyes away.

Strange.

"And no more tears to cry

I'm out of goodbyes

It's time for us to part

Although it breaks my heart

Oh, 'cause I love you

I love you."

Rory smiled despite himself and threw himself into the last verse of the song.

"Take care of yourself

Take care of yourself

Take care of yourself

I love you."

As the piano music faded out, the club members rose to their feet and applauded enthusiastically. Sam's face ought to have cracked in half from the intensity of his smile.

The teacher put a hand on Rory's shoulder and offered him a congratulatory handshake. Rory, who was normally always cautious to avoid attention of any kind, was thoroughly enjoying the spotlight.

Then, he managed to catch a few whispered words through the noise in the room. A girl with long, dark hair was muttering to the extremely tall boy, "He's magical."

The word set off a dozen warning bells in Rory's head. 'Magical'.

He shouldn't be here. Mingling with…_them_. With _any_ of them!

"I'm sorry, I can't do this," he mumbled softly to the teacher, taking a step back.

Rory noticed Sam beginning to weave his way through the chairs, coming towards him.

Sam, who had been nice to him.

_No_, Rory thought firmly. He didn't need niceness. He didn't need anyone.

He turned on his heels and, much to the confusion of everyone in the room, sprinted away into the hall.

…

Sam frowned in confusion. Rory had totally killed it, and everybody in the club was excitedly talking about how the Irish boy could be a huge advantage at their next competition.

Then, why did Rory run away?

"I'll go check on him, Mr. Shue," Sam said, hurrying towards the door.

Santana said meanly, "Tell Lucky he'd better grow a pair if he wants to be part of this club."

"Santana," Quinn reprimanded sharply, "be nice."

"There's no room here for a sissy who can't overcome a bit of stage fright."

Leaving the club members to their bickering, Sam dashed out into the hallway. He just wanted to find Rory and make sure he was okay. Sam felt a crushing sense of guilt; he was the one who had forced Rory into an uncomfortable situation.

Rounding a corner, Sam found the boy he was looking sitting with his back against the wall and his head buried in his hands. He had pulled up the hood of his sweater, blocking his face.

"Rory?" Sam asked tentatively.

"Go away."

Sam came closer. "I'm so sorry, Rory. I made you get up in front of everybody when you said you didn't want to."

"Sam—"

"It's got to be so hard for you already, being the new kid and all. Of course you wouldn't want to—"

Rory rose to his feet in a startlingly fast motion and got right up into Sam's face, his face screwed up in anger. "You need to leave me alone."

"What?" Sam asked, alarmed.

With as much venom as he could muster, Rory hissed, "Never talk to me again."

"Rory, I don't understand. I'm just trying to be friendly."

"Yeah?" Rory mocked. The rage in his expression made up for their difference in height. Sam shrunk back as though Rory towered above him. "Well I don't want you to be my friend."

"You—"

"I want you to leave me alone."

Sam frowned. "Don't say that."

"I don't need you, or want you. I'm perfectly happy by myself. And your pathetic little attempts at kindness are embarrassing."

"But—"

"I guess you don't know how to take a hint. Goodbye, Sam."

Sam felt heat rising to his cheeks and stinging tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. "O-okay."

Rory jammed his hands in the deep pockets of his sweater and marched in the opposite direction.

Sam let out a single sob, before biting his lip to keep from making another sound. He started back in the direction of the choir room feeling numb.

His new friend—one of his _only_ friends—wanted nothing to do with him. And it hurt. Badly.

…

As Rory walked away from Sam, he felt a few tears dribble from his eyes. He felt awful. Sam had shown him a kindness he had never known before. Yet he had thrown it right back in his face.

_It's for the best_, Rory reminded himself.

But the thought did little to soothe the pain.


	5. Saving Grace

**Author's Note:** **The reveal you've all been waiting for :P! **Thanks to LeoChris for beta reading! Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)

...

Rory closed his eyes and allowed the cool night breeze to tickle his face, clearing his head of the jumble of thoughts.

The past three days had been insufferable. Not only was the subject matter of his classes at school tedious, but he already knew everything the teachers were covering. He spent the days by himself, without anybody to talk to. The hockey players pushed him around, and he couldn't do anything about it. Even his evenings at the Pierce's home made him want to stick a fork in his eye.

To top it all off, Rory had to pass Sam in the hallways. The brunet still felt absolutely horrible about the things he had said. And he was reminded of his cruelty every time he caught Sam sneaking a sad glance at him, before the blond looked away shyly.

So he had taken to coming to the park at night to prowl around where he felt most comfortable. In the shadows.

Off to his right, just beyond the tree line, he could hear laughter. A boy and a girl, by the sound of it. The thought made Rory's heart leap with excitement.

For the moment, he decided to put aside all thoughts of the hardships he faced at school and his regrets about Sam…Sam—hadn't he heard someone saying that Sam was working evening shifts at the Lima Bean now?

No matter. For the moment, Rory was focused and on task. He split from the trail and tread quietly across the grass.

Briefly, and out of the very corner of his eye, he caught sight of a dark silhouette hiding behind a nearby tree. In a flash, it was gone and Rory could focus on the two teenagers laughing…oblivious.

…

Sam huffed in relief as he finished wiping down the last table. The Lima Bean was peacefully empty, a stark contrast from the incessant din of chatter that filled the space during rush hours.

He tossed the frayed blue rag back into the suds-filled bucket and hefted the whole thing into the storage room.

Happily hanging up his apron, Sam was pleased to call it a night. After a full day at school and a long shift in the evening, he was exhausted. Still, he was making decent money and, if he were to be honest with himself, the monotonous chores he performed at the coffee shop helped take his mind off Rory.

He had been thinking a lot about the strange Irish boy in the days since the incident in the hallway, in the most unusual of places. In class, he would recall how they had collided as he had rounded the corner. In glee club, he would think back to Rory's charming performance…and he could no longer use the school bathrooms without hearing the haunting lullaby. He would find himself in bed, lying wide-awake, and obsessing over Rory's harsh words. He was so hurt.

Sam shut off the lights and headed outside, locking the front doors firmly behind him.

The street was startlingly dark. A thick veil of clouds hid the moon and stars, and three of the nearby streetlamps were burnt out. It was drizzling lightly and autumn was definitely bringing its chill to Lima. Sam shivered; his Lima Bean T-shirt did little to keep him warm.

Sam jammed a hand into his pocket and extracted his car keys. Crossing the deserted street at a light jog, he pressed the button on his key to unlock the doors. The headlights of his small car flickered once—

Revealing two hulking figures wrapped in black hoodies, leaning against his car.

…

Rory got a strange feeling as he was leaving the park. It felt like someone was watching him. He glanced over either shoulder, but it appeared as though he was alone.

Yet, as he walked down the street, a streetlight overhead flickered out.

Yes, something was definitely off.

…

Sam's heart was thudding. The guys were _huge_, at least a head taller than him and with enormously broad shoulders; they looked like trouble.

The blond wasn't sure exactly what he should do. There was no one he could call on for help. He couldn't exactly spend the night in the Lima Bean, and he certainly didn't want to leave his car on the streets overnight.

He swallowed his fear and clenched his fists at his sides. He would ask them politely to move and if they wanted to start something, he would take off in the opposite direction.

"Excuse me," Sam called, wishing that his voice didn't betray his fear. "Um, that's my car and I kinda have to get home."

Slowly, the two men stepped away from the car and turned to face him. With their hoods pulled up, Sam could only make out the vaguest of their features: squared jaws and thick noses.

"This the one?" The man on right asked of the other with, surprisingly, an Irish accent.

"He still reeks of the boy…and fear," the other man chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm just going to head home now." Sam made a move to pass them, but one of the men put a gigantic hand on his shoulder, squeezing with crushing power. Sam yelped.

"Where is he?"

"Who?" Sam grunted.

"Don't be stupid, boy. Where is Rory Flanagan?"

Sam frowned. What did these guys want with Rory. "Why should I tell you?"

One of the men threw back his head and laughed, the hood of his sweater falling back. When he had calmed down somewhat he looked at Sam and the blond gasped. The large man's eyes were a horrible scarlet color. The man took a step towards Sam and chuckled once more before throwing a powerful punch.

Sam was sent flying backwards, landing badly on his right arm and skidding along the pavement. The wind knocked out of him, he tried to suck in some breath but only succeeded in getting a mouthful of the blood that was streaming down his face.

Then he felt a hand fisting the front of his T-shirt and seconds later, he was yanked into the air. The huge man held him up at arm's length, high enough so that his feet were off the ground.

"Where is Rory Flanagan? Won't you tell us, Sam Evans? Tell us where he is so we can rip him in half!" The man growled, his sour breath hot on Sam's face.

Enraged, Sam spat, "I'll never tell you. I won't let you hurt him."

The man roared in anger and swiped a hand across Sam's chest. His nails must have been incredibly large and sharp, as they tore into his T-shirt and tore into his skin.

Sam panted in agony but managed to choke out, "Fuck you."

Just as the man hissed and bared his teeth—Sam's eyes widened at the razor-sharp canines—and leaned in to tear Sam's throat out, the man was knocked to the side and Sam collapsed to the ground.

Sam couldn't see what was going on. Sounds of a fight came from the other side of the car. He dragged himself along the pavement, gasping in pain, and managed to peak around the corner of his bumper to behold a terrifying sight.

One of the large men was making sickening choking sounds as blood poured from his mouth and torn throat. The other was engaged in a wrestling match with a much smaller opponent…though the slim rival was holding his own.

As the two rolled over one another, Sam could see that the smaller figure was that of a boy.

Finally, the boy got the upper hand and he brought his fist down onto the large man's chest, his hand sinking into the man's torso with a spray of blood. After a moment, the large man lay still and the boy pulled out his hand, wiping it off on the leg of his pants.

Sam was in total shock. He weakly struggled to his feet and, holding onto the car for support, shuffled over to where the boy was kneeling on the wet street.

"H-hello?" Sam asked.

The boy whipped around into a predatory crouch, his face twisted into a vicious snarl. His sharp teeth were bared and dripping with blood, blue veins stood out along his neck and face and his eyes glowed bright red. But Sam recognized him. "Rory?"

The boy seemed to recognize the name, and he closed his eyes firmly. After a few seconds, the teeth shrunk to their normal size and the veins receded. When he opened his eyes, they were the same beautiful blue that Sam had loved when they had first met.

"Sam?"

"Oh my god!" Sam yelled in a panic, backing up into his car. He lost his footing and fell to the ground, his whole body flaring up in intense pain.

"Sam, are you alright?" Rory asked with sincere concern.

Sam couldn't quite catch his breath, starting to hyperventilate. He couldn't understand what he had just seen. Rory was…he was…

Rory stood up and slowly walked towards the blond, stopping to crouch down at his side. "Sam, it's okay."

"Help!" Sam screamed.

"No, no, no, no…" Rory soothed, putting a cool hand on either side of Sam's flushed face. "Look at me, Sam. It's okay. You're okay."

"But—"

"Shh," Rory murmured, pulling Sam towards him and gripping the other boy in a tight and protective hug. "I've got you."

Exhausted, Sam didn't resist. Instead, he found comfort in Rory's strong grip and familiar smell…


	6. Protective Instincts

**Author's Note:** **I really like this chapter...hop on board this ship and hold on tight haha! **Thanks to LeoChris for beta reading! Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)

...

They were driving. Rory sat anxiously behind the wheel and kept demanding to know if Sam was comfortable; was he too cold? Did he want the radio on?

After settling on a radio station, Rory aimed the vents at Sam and turned up the heating. In the warm silence, Sam was slowly lulled into an easy doze. He felt safe under Rory's watch…

"Sam?" Rory whispered vulnerably. There was no answer, save for the blond's gentle snoring. "Sam, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt."

Sam made a sleepy smile, which Rory returned fondly. "I'll protect you, Sam. They won't come after you again."

…

Sam felt a light hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently awake. He muttered sleepily, "What?"

"We're here, Sam," Rory said, "You have to wake up. Oh, thank god the bleeding's stopped."

The blond struggled to open his eyes and fumbled with his seatbelt. Rory reached over and unbuckled it.

"Do you think you can walk, Sam?"

Sam nodded slowly. He sat up a little straighter and then gasped, wincing in pain. "Oh god…"

"I'm coming," Rory whispered. He unbuckled his own seatbelt and got out of the car, flitting around to the other side and opening Sam's door.

"I'm fine," Sam affirmed.

Rory rolled his eyes and, in a single quick motion, scooped Sam up into his arms. "I've got you."

Nudging the door closed with his foot, Rory marched up the front steps to the Pierces' front door. The windows of the modest house were dark.

Rory prodded the doorbell with his elbow, still cradling Sam comfortably against his chest.

A light flicked on inside the house and Sam sucked in a breath, "They'll see me."

"Shh," Rory said. After a moment, the front door swung open revealing a pajama-clad Brittany.

"What's up?" She asked as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"I'm taking Sam down to my room," Rory replied, stepping into the house. "Go back to bed."

Shutting the front door behind them, Brittany shrugged and grinned. "Okay."

She turned to start up the stairs, but Rory called after her. She glanced over her shoulder and Rory said, "You'll forget this happened."

A vacant look spread across her face and she mouthed something incoherent before climbing the stairs and disappearing into her bedroom.

"What did you do?" Sam asked.

"I'll explain everything later," Rory said. Then, he opened the door leading down to the basement and clicked on the lights as he made his way down the stairs.

They arrived in a very simple bedroom with a large bed and plain wooden furniture. There were no indications that a teenage boy inhabited the room: no posters on the walls, no trophies, no schoolbooks.

Rory gently laid Sam down on the comfy, white bedspread. Sam protested. "The blood…"

"Mrs. Pierce will wash it."

"But—"

"Sam!" Rory said sharply. "You're hurt. Please, just let me help you."

The blond opened his mouth to protest. First things first, he wanted an explanation. But he saw the look of resolve on Rory's face and he merely nodded. "Okay."

Rory smiled appreciatively, ducking out of the room. Sam reflected on the fact that it may have been the first time he had seen the Irish boy smile.

"We're going to fix you up," Rory said, more to himself than to Sam, as he returned with an armful of medical supplies. He dumped them onto the bed.

"Maybe I should sit up," Sam suggested.

"Are you able to?"

Sam grunted, trying to move. "Just give me a hand."

Rory helped Sam into a sitting position, so that his back was supported by the headboard of Rory's bed.

"Perfect," Sam said.

Rory hung back, biting his lip uneasily. Only now did it occur to him that Sam was lying on his bed, in his room and they were together…alone. The room seemed suddenly hot and stuffy.

To give himself something to do, Rory started fussing with the boxes of gauze and bandages, sorting through them. Sam kept his eyes trained on the spinning ceiling fan as it cast shadows swooping along the walls.

With Sam distracted, Rory allowed himself to steal a few quick glances at the injured boy. He had never noticed the perfect balance of Sam's proportions; his long limbs built up with just the right amount of athletic muscle, broad shoulders matched with a narrow waist, a toned torso with a strong chest.

Rory tore his eyes away, his fingers numbly working on opening several boxes of supplies.

But then Sam's face drew his attention. Under the layer of drying blood was a face as friendly as it was handsome. And those green eyes, so warm and full of life…

"Rory?" Sam asked, startling the brunet out of his thoughts.

"Yes," Rory piped.

Sam turned to face the nervous boy and flashed a familiar smile, despite the circumstances. "Can we get started now? It kinda hurts, and I'd like to try to get some sleep tonight."

"Okay."

Rory went to fetch a bowl of water and a washcloth. He knelt at the side of the bed, placing the bowl on the bedside table. He nodded. "Ready?"

"You bet."

…

Sam felt the tenderness in Rory's fingers as they brushed across the sore skin of his face, the warm water ebbing away the pain.

"Am I hurting you?" Rory whispered, his voice tight.

Sam's eyes never left the brunet's face. "You're perfect."

While Rory wiped away the blood that had gushed from Sam's nose, and cleaned the bruising skin along his jaw, Sam felt…something. He admired the boy standing above him; the slight crinkle just between his eyebrows as he concentrated, the way he bit his lower lip. Even more startling, Sam felt he could gaze up at Rory forever. His stomach felt like it was tied in a knot and his heart fluttered.

"Rory…" Sam whispered.

The Irish boy shook his head and placed a cool finger on Sam's lips, his eyes full of an unidentifiable emotion. Rory's fingers ghosted uncertainly along the bottom of Sam's shirt. "I have to…take it off…you're hurt."

"Do it," Sam sighed.

In a none-too-elegant motion, Rory tugged and wrestled the shirt off. Sam grunted as the material was pulled from the sticky wounds.

Rory let out a breath of air and wrung out the washcloth, pressing it gingerly to the claw marks on Sam's chest. As the blood was cleared away, the wounds looked much more manageable. Rory replaced the washcloth with his own hands, his fingers curiously trailing along the gouges, testing the rough outlines against the smooth expanses of Sam's chest…and moving down to the hard lines of the blond's stomach.

Sam tensed his body as he felt an almost electric tingle racing through his body, stemming from the point of contact between them.

"Rory," Sam murmured wondrously, "You saved me."

The brunet smiled shyly and shrugged, as he rolled Sam onto his side. With the bloodied washcloth, he tended to the scrapes along Sam's back where he had skidded along the pavement.

"I'm sorry for what happened, Sam. It's my fault that they came after you. I want to explain, but I don't know how."

"Later…tomorrow," Sam said. Then, rather manipulatively, he said, "I should probably go."

"You will do nothing of the sort, Sam Evans," Rory said firmly. "You can stay here."

"Okay," Sam said, settling in on his back.

Rory started unwrapping a bandage but Sam shook his head, "Tomorrow."

"And I'll explain—"

"Tomorrow."

Rory nodded and turned to leave the room. Sleepily, Sam asked, "Rory, will you stay with me?"

Smiling to himself before turning around, Rory stretched himself out next to Sam on the bed and found himself remarkably exhausted.

As the pair fell asleep, they wormed nearer and nearer until they were cuddled up close together, smiles on both their faces.


	7. 101

**Author's Note:** **I think this chapter will explain a lot. **Thanks to LeoChris for beta reading! Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)

...

Sam's body was one big bruise. He stood before the mirror in Rory's bathroom, examining the hues of blue and purple that stained his skin. His arm throbbed where he had landed on it; probably a minor sprain. The scratch marks across his chest were violent red with all kinds of scary colors spreading out around the lines. His face seemed to have had an ill-fated run-in with a brick wall.

"I look awful," Sam muttered to himself, grimacing. His eyes roamed down his body, noting the flaws with distaste.

"You look fine," Rory told him, hanging back in the doorway with his arms folded.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Is it cool if I take a shower?"

"Be my guest," Rory said. "I'll be, um, in the other room."

"Thanks."

As the door closed, Sam continued his scrutiny. He turned to his side and pulled his stomach tight, running his fingers over the skin.

He closed his eyes and squeezed them tight as he could, trying to hold back the anxiety that threatened to overtake him. Now was not the time.

_Fat_.

Sam cursed under his breath and lashed out, his fist banging against the mirror and setting it rattling in its frame.

"Are you okay in there?" Came Rory's muffled voice through the door.

"Fine!" Sam called too cheerfully. He muttered to himself, "Get a grip."

Shoving the thoughts away, he shucked off his boxers and ducked into the shower.

The warm water seeped into his aching muscles, and he tried to relax. It was hard.

…

"Where to start?" Rory murmured thoughtfully.

He and Sam were walking along the gravel paths in the park, bundled up in warm sweaters and sipping from large coffees.

"Uh, is it safe to be out in the open?" Sam asked, glancing around furtively.

"Of course, silly. The sun's up!" Rory said, laughing.

"Oh, right…" Sam coughed embarrassedly. "Of course."

"I guess I'm just nervous to tell the whole thing, Sam. I—never mind."

"What is it?"

Rory drank shyly from his cup and shrugged. "I don't want you to stop liking me."

"Do you think I would be here, talking with you, after having spent the night in your _bed_ if I didn't like you, Rory? You're not going to get rid of me that easily."

"You're sure you aren't going to run away? I already made you do that once, and I feel horrible about that. I don't want to do it again."

"I'm a brave guy."

Rory nodded. "Okay. Um, I'm a vampire."

Sam stopped in his tracks, shot Rory a curious look and then threw back his head in laughter. Tears streamed from his eyes as he clapped a hand to Rory's shoulder and tried to get a hold on himself.

"You're taking this well, I suppose," Rory remarked.

"Just…just the way you said it," Sam chuckled. "I'm not sure why it's so funny."

"Um, aren't you supposed to be all shocked at the revelation of mythical creatures existing?"

"Well, I guess I've had some time to process the fact that you had red eyes and fangs and you killed two guys twice your size by ripping their hearts out. It makes sense, in a way," Sam noted. He grinned. "Besides, it's not like this has changed everything I've ever known. I'm still a regular guy with a regular life, I just happen to have a vampire for a friend."

Rory didn't have the heart to tell Sam any different, so he just plastered a smile to his face and said, "Right."

"So let's hear it, then," Sam said. "The whole story."

"Well, I guess I'll start at the beginning. I was born centuries ago in Ireland. It was me, my father, my mother and Shamus. I was born a vampire; my Dad has been around for…a very long time. And he fancied my mum, so he turned her and they had my brother and I. We lived like royalty, in a huge castle overlooking a village. We had servants and the finest things. But all those years, my Dad poisoned us against the humans. He taught us that they were disposable, just food. I idolized him, and never thought anything of his views. That is, until he killed my brother."

"I'm so sorry, Rory. That's awful."

"Shamus stood up to him one day, and my father killed him—or, at least, he made sure that Shamus would never turn up again. I still don't know what happened to him.

"I broke away from the family and I started living on my own. It was a cowardly life, I'll admit. Everywhere I went, I felt his eyes on me. I was never safe. That is, until he was put away."

"Put away? What do you mean?"

"An army of men stormed the castle and managed to bleed him. Without blood, he was weak. And they tried to stake him, but it didn't work. He survived, on the cusp of life. So they locked him away in a hidden vault, buried deep underground."

Sam remained silent for a moment before asking a question that had been tugging on his mind. "Rory, who were those men who attacked me yesterday."

Rory sighed. "They are my father's men. He's somehow managed to come back, and he's looking for me. He's testing out the waters, seeing how strong I've become…but he will come soon and Lima will be in deep trouble."

"You can kill him, right Rory?" Sam asked hopefully.

"It's not that simple. My father is not a regular vampire. His blood is the black of the Demons. He's old, Sam. Very old. And he has powers beyond anything on this Earth. He cannot be easily killed."

"But he _can_ be killed."

Rory paused for a moment before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small dagger, holding it by the handle. It gleamed brightly in the sunlight, the facets of its ruby-encrusted handle glittering. "_This_, when plunged through his heart, will kill him."

"What is it?"

"A relic," Rory said, biting his lip, "Of religious origin."

"Where'd you get it?"

Rory sighed guiltily. "The…uh, the Vatican."

Sam gaped. "The Pope gave you that thing?"

"Define 'gave'."

"Rory, my friend, I underestimated you."

"It was blessed by an angel, and is the only thing pure enough to destroy him."

"How can you touch it, then?"

"The handle is safe to the touch; only the blade itself is holy. If I touched it to my bare skin, I would probably burn to a crisp in seconds."

"So is it all true, then?" Sam asked. He sat down with a huff on the ground, patting the space next to him for Rory. "Garlic, coffins, crosses…how are you outside in the sunlight?"

Rory grinned wryly. "It's true. Except for the coffin bit; that's just plain weird."

"Sorry," Sam replied.

"I'm vulnerable to garlic and anything sacred; I can't set foot inside a church. A stake through the heart will kill me just as easily. I need blood to survive. My Dad's stronger, but he still can't cross onto holy ground."

"Did he pass on any of his powers to you?" Sam asked.

Rory nodded. "I'm strong, Sam; stronger than the ordinary vampires. Faster, more agile, and he gave me the ability to walk in the sunlight. I'm glad for that. It's a bad way to go. I left those fellows who attacked us yesterday in a place where the sun would find them. They're now piles of ash."

Sam shook his head and stood up. He started walking. "There're a lot of rules."

"I've been alive long enough to learn all of them. It's not so—"

"When you say you need blood, Rory…do you, like, _kill_ people?"

Rory sighed. "Typically, our species will drain every last drop. Not only does this kill the victim, it brings them back as vampires."

"And you?"

"I've tried my best to always spare the lives of the people I feed from. It doesn't always turn out that way, but I do try."

"How often do you have to…you know?"

"Usually a good drink will satisfy us for a month. But sometimes we'll feed depending on our mood."

"And—"

"Sam, look; I think we've talked about this enough," Rory said. "Why don't we just, you know, talk? About regular stuff."

Sam closed his eyes and smiled, "Alright."

As they started walking off, the Irish boy smiled broadly when Sam threw an arm around his shoulders.


End file.
